Dear Journal
by GarrulousGibberish
Summary: I found this diary as I was going through some of her old things. They disturbed me enough that I thought that maybe if I shared them, some of her private thoughts, that someone else could help me understand what they mean. Slender Man fic.
1. March

[I found this diary as I was going through some of her old things. They disturbed me enough that I thought that maybe if I shared them, some of her private thoughts, that someone else could help me understand what they mean.

**Warning:** She swears a few times. I could have edited them, but I wished to leave the entries exactly as I had found them. The only notes I have made is when I was unable to understand what she had written.]

* * *

******3/12**

Dear Journal,

So I bought this notebook today. Niki keeps telling me that they're a lot of fun, some place to just rant about nothing and no one else has to know. It seems like a good idea. If nothing else, it gives me something to do in the middle of the night when I can't sleep. Though I'm not entirely sure how I'm supposed to do this, exactly. Though I guess writing about writing still counts? I don't know. Maybe I'm just sounding like an idiot. But unless Jon decides to sneak into my room and read this, it doesn't really matter.

...

Though I really don't want Jon to read this, so I think I'll stash it somewhere safe. I really wish I was an only child sometimes.

******3/26**

Dear Journal,

So, yeah, I completely forgot I had this book until I found it under a suitcase in my closet. Probably shouldn't hide it in places where I won't even find it. Oh well. If I were to hide it somewhere underneath my mattress I think it'd be safe enough. Jon's not that creative, so I don't think I really need to go out of my way to keep him out of it. I have the whole weekend while he's at his friend's house, anyhow. Freedom! I think I might try and get a group together to head out to the movies or something. That would be fun. I probably should work on this report first, but I guess we'll see how that goes, won't we?

******3/27**

I hate her. God, she's such a little bitch. Pardon my language. Today would have been great, but no, if she wasn't the leader of everything, then no one else could be. So I wanted to go eat lunch before we headed to Crissy's, so what? It wasn't even that big of a deal. But it wasn't her idea. UHG! I just can't stand the way she acts. It's so childish and stupid! I don't even know why I hang out with her.

Writing in this doesn't help at all. I don't know what Niki was talking about. I'm going to bed.

******3/29**

Dear Journal,

After glaring at your cover for about an hour, I've finally decided that the maybe you're not completely useless. After Saturday night I really thought I was going to kill someone, or break something, but I'm beginning to think that maybe it did help to yell at empty pages for a little while. Whooda thunk? Maybe if I keep doing this I'll be able to get over some of my other issues: like not being able to smack my little brother when he deserves it, or when I'm suffering severe superiority issues over other people in my classes? Let's hope so, because I'm fairly sure I wouldn't be able to get away with either one of those things for very long. I can't help it. It's like a compulsion. It keeps running in my head, over and over.

_Must smack him over the head with my laptop._

_Must let everyone in my history class know they're idiots._

I kid.

Mostly.

******3/30**

Dear Journal,

Today was a surprisingly great day at school. We got some of our scores back on that big Bio test. I was (shockingly) over an 85% for the first time. So what if it was only by 1%? I'm working my way up! Niki and Crissy were running around somewhere near the Chem rooms, and I really didn't feel the urge to try and find them during my lunch hour. Knowing my luck, they'd probably run around for 50 minutes of it and then end up having to scarf down my lunch. So instead I just picked a table and parked it.

A few other kids stopped by and sat at the other end of the table. Somehow I ended up eavesdropping on their conversation. (It wasn't intentional, I swear!) Turns out that Tracy just cheated on whoever she was currently dating on the basketball team. It was some huge, ugly affair. And right afterward the other guy she was with completely dissed her right in front of everyone. It was kinda nice to hear, actually. Wow, that sounded really mean. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't true. I really hate Tracy. She gets no sympathy from me.

The rest of the day was kinda uneventful. I never did catch up to Niki and Crissy before I had to catch the bus home. Luckily it was the middle of the week, so there were plenty of free seats for me to choose from. And for once I was on time so I could snag one before anyone else. See, even at the end of the day, it still turned out pretty good.

Oh, okay, one little blip. There was some really weird guy at the far end of my street when I got off. He just stood there. Hope he wasn't lost or anything (not that it's real easy to get lost in a tiny suburb). But I didn't stop to check if he needed help. He just gave off some really creepy vibes. I'm not touching that.

Hope the poor guy made it home, though. He looked incredibly out of place just standing there, in the heat, wearing a full black suit. That couldn't have been comfortable, but who am I to nitpick?


	2. April

******4/1**

Dear Journal,

I hate April Fool's day. It isn't enough to just trick someone, is it? No, you have to scare them, too. It's so unfair. I was never any good at tricking or scaring people. This holiday is set up to spite me, I'm sure of it. And it just so happens to be the day before my birthday. What a joke. (Ha) For a day they all get to sneak up on me from dark doorways and put fake spiders in my backpack, then the next they get to repent by bringing me presents. Screw them. Can't I take my presents a day early? I would gladly give up all gifts in exchange for not getting scared out of my skin for a day. Then again, sometimes I get some neat stuff from them, so perhaps I spoke in haste?

But by the way Jon keeps lurking just outside of my doorway (trying to be sneaky like I can't hear his thudding footsteps) I can tell that no gifts will ever be enough.

Today is going to suck.

******4/2**

Okay, I'm writing this real fast before I head back downstairs. My mom is amazing. You want to know what my birthday present from her was? A CAMERA! This is the greatest birthday ever. Just saying. I'll be back to write more in a bit.

Dear Journal,

Sorry, I was in a bit of a rush earlier. (I just reread that and then realized I just apologized to a book. Wow.) I had a really great birthday today. Yes, it might very well make up for yesterday, too. Which, by the way, did suck. (Marissa, I may never forgive you) I got a whole bunch of things, although the camera trumps them all. I'll make a list.

Niki: Homemade cookies (she knows how much I love her mom's cooking) and one of those nice beaded necklaces her aunt and her make. It was really pretty.

Crissy: A ceramic moon she made in art class, beautifully painted. I'll hang it on my wall tonight.

Jon: Paper coupons for various things: one free brekfast, one trip to the moon, one time i wont disterb you for a hole night (Thanks a lot, buddy. I'm sure those will come in handy. Take some grammar lessons in your time off)

Marissa: A jean hat, sewn and studded with some of my favorite patterns (As impressed as I am with this, don't think this this gets you off)

Jake: The sequel to the book I finished last year. I've been dying for this one.

And I've just realized all my friends are just as broke as me. Lovely.

******4/5**

Dear Journal,

So today we got our huge research project in English. We're supposed to select a myth or legend and (using correct format) write a 12 page paper on it. What's it about, who believed in it, why could it be plausible/why did people believe in it, is there any truth behind it. Yuck. I hate writing papers like these. I'm not much of an English person. I'm a math or history person. Facts. I'm good with facts. I couldn't care less about some story people invented to make themselves feel better at night. I don't like not knowing what's going to happen or what will become of something else. Thus why I could never become a scientist. Also why I don't like being scared, I guess.

On a different note, I love my camera. I've been taking pictures with it every chance I get. Good thing it's digital. I've been uploading a full memory card almost every day. I haven't printed any pictures (mom says we're running low on ink) but maybe I can sneak one in tomorrow.

******4/6**

Dear Journal,

I HATE ENGLISH PAPERS! They are purposely torturing us, I know it. My teacher hates everyone. Except Tracy, but I think we all know why. So I don't have double D's, that means that I can't have an extended deadline, too? Our educational system is so screwed up. There needs to be a million duplicates of my math teacher. She's really good at what she does, and really fair. Unlike life. Uhg. I wonder what I should do for the project, though. I haven't decided. I thought about doing some Greek or Roman myths, but those are so overdone. I'm sure he'll get a ton of those. Then I thought I might do something about ancient civilizations, but scratched that, too. Crissy and Jake are already doing those. Um...maybe I should do urban legends? Those seem like fun. Maybe.

I guess it's worth a shot.

******4/7**

I don't have a lot of time to write today; we're going to a strings concert at 7 and it's 6:10 now. I just needed to get some ideas down. So, possible subjects to write that paper on:

Bloody Mary

Big Foot

Lochness Monster

Bermuda Triangle (Does that count?)

Shapeshifters

Macbeth (curse for thespians)

I'll write more as they come along.

******4/10**

Dear Journal,

Okay, so I've been working like crazy on this project, right? Well, I deleted all of it. Yup. Truly. I can't take any of these stupid myths seriously. How dumb can people get? Some of the ones I've researched are so-argh. I can't even describe. Why would you purposely summon a demented little girl into your bathroom with candles and chanting? Because that's real smart.

The world is full of idiots.

In the meantime, I have to find something else to work on. I'm hoping someone will give me some suggestions to help me out. My teacher is of no use. Every time I ask mom she can't actually remember the full legend, and half the time I think she just thinks she knows the legend, when in fact she just remembers some corny movie from the 80's.

Wait, can those count?

******4/11**

Dear Journal,

No, the movies do not count. Damnit, I was actually really hoping for that one. I keep asking people I know for more suggestions but they can never settle down enough to give me a serious answer. Can I get a myth that doesn't require sacrifices, rituals, or monsters? Though I guess that excludes just about all of them. I mean, I get what the whole story thing is about, but I want one that's a little more...believable. Like it could be true. But I don't believe in aliens, because there is no proof. I do not believe in magic. I do not believe in ghosts. Are there truly no myths that don't sound like complete pot?

******4/12**

Dear Journal,

I think I saw that guy again today. The one I saw at the end of my street last month? I guess he found wherever it was he was going. Maybe. I can't be sure if it was him or not. Though I don't know how many people hang around in suits in the middle of the street. Or maybe I didn't actually see a person. Could have just been a pole or something. I don't know. Either way it wasn't there when I looked again.

The due date of that paper is coming up. I only have a few weeks to work on it (so unfair). That, and now a new report I have to do for Bio is eating at my free time. I haven't talked to Marissa or Niki in a while. Crissy only because I have Physics with her. I'm getting a little worried. I mean, me and Crissy are really close, but not so much Niki and Marissa. I want to make sure I keep in touch with them. I know how easy it can be to just drop off of someone else's radar. I don't want to be forgotten.

******4/14**

Dear Journal,

Spring Fling is coming up. Completely forgot about that. The whole school's been chatting about it. Not that I really mind too much. I like school dances, they're a lot of fun. Music tastes aside. I have two issues, though. One, I still have to work on this stupid paper, and it's due the day after the dance. Whoopie. Second, and probably most important, who would I go with? I could always just go with Crissy, but I know her and Jake have had this thing going on for a while. I wouldn't want to get in the middle of that should he finally get the nerve up to ask her out. I guess I have all Spring Break to try and find someone to go with. It would be super lame if I had to stay at home while everyone else was having fun.

Things to do:

Find a suitable myth

Write the paper

Find my missing earrings (check Jon's room while he's at Jeremy's Saturday)

Start scoping out some new candidates for dance

Call Niki and Marissa

Start the book received from birthday

******4/18**

Dear Journal,

Been really busy these past few days. But, unfortunately I haven't gotten a whole lot done. Think I might be on the lead of a decent myth, though. Which would be awesome. I can't afford to bomb this paper. I can't seem to motivate myself enough to look up more research, at the moment, however. It's just not gonna happen. It's late, and I don't want to have to put up with more school work when my Spring Break has officially started. I'll work on it tomorrow. Ha. Famous last words. No wonder nothing ever gets accomplished.

Did find my earrings. Jon didn't take them like I thought he did. Turns out it was the cat. He's been taking off with little bits of jewelry for longer than I thought. He's even made himself a little mountain of stolen treasure under the back porch. I don't want them back, anymore.

Mom's going up to the lake for a few days, so it's just me, dad and Jon at the house. Fun stuff. All alone in a house full of boys. What's even better is that she's taking my camera with her. Never did manage to get a hold of anyone before the break started. Maybe I'll see if they want to do anything while we're all free. I need to get out of the house for a little bit. I think I'm going a bit stir crazy. And maybe just slightly paranoid. Ever get that feeling that something's watching you? It sends chills down your spine. But the feeling leaves fairly quickly, thank goodness.

At this point I'm too brain-numb to keep writing. Good night.

******4/19**

Dear Journal,

Jon's a jerk. Simple as that. He scared the living crap out of me twice today. Once in the morning: he made me spill my cereal down the front of my favorite shirt. I will make sure he pays for that later. The second time was later this afternoon while I was on the phone. Though I know this one wasn't intentional. I think he fell or something in the front yard. He screamed deafeningly loud and started crying. It was terrifying. I know I may not act like it sometimes, but he is my little brother. I don't want anything to happen to him.

I yell at you because I care, remember that.

I'm currently hiding out in my room as Dad plays nurse downstairs. There's a storm rolling in, so I didn't bother trying to arrange to go out today. Won't tomorrow, either. What a way to start out a break. Someone must have it out for me.

******4/20**

Dear Journal,

Jon sprained his ankle, we found out. We had to take him to the doctor in the middle of a torrential downpour. If he had just been careful instead of running around like a lunatic in the mud he probably could have avoided this whole thing. He keeps saying it wasn't his fault. Little kids never want to take responsibility for their actions. I can't wait until he finally grows up. Or I move out of the house. Either one.

Mom is trapped up at the lake for a little while until the storm calms down. She wanted to come home as soon as she heard about Jon but we convinced her to wait out the rain, first. That's all we need, for mom to get in an accident in the middle of all this.

The doctor gave Dad some pain killers for Jon. Does a sprain really hurt so bad that he needs pills? Dad's always been a little hesitant about the drugs we put into our systems. Too many years working behind the pharmacy counters at CVS has left him a little too cautious. But if the pills keep Jon from whining all day, I'm all for it.

I'm using one of my coupons tonight. I don't want to have to deal with anyone at the moment.

******4/21**

Jon said that there's a man with no face watching him from our front yard at night. I know it's just a dream, but it's a little disconcerting nonetheless. I think he's going to sleep with Dad until he gets off those pain killers. Kid needs some sleep.

******4/23**

Dear Journal,

Niki called today. Apparently their entire yard is flooded; she was wondering how things were for us people up on the hill. We're really not fairing much better. Some of the water drains down the side of the slope, but we still have enough pooling in giant puddles that we have to wear boots to get to our mailbox. She's doing well aside from drowning every time she walks outside. I think we'll try to get together sometime over the break, so long as she doesn't get bogged down with chores or things with her family. Turns out I missed Jake asking Crissy out. I don't know why she didn't tell me, but I'm happy for them. It's only been a four year process. Still, I feel a little excluded having to hear about it from someone else, especially since Crissy is supposed to be my best friend.

Jon's crying again. I should probably go see what's up.

******4/24**

Dear Journal,

I can't believe my break is almost up already! These things never last long enough. The storm came and went, and now it's nothing but sunshine and mud around here. Mom's home and Jon seems to have settled down a bit. He's been acting funny these past few days. I blame the meds. Maybe Dad actually knew what he was talking about when he warned us about them. There hasn't been much to take pictures of since Mom came back and I've been cooped up inside, but I plan on taking my camera out with me today as we go into town. Crissy called me today, told me about Jake. I acted surprised as if I didn't already know. No need to make a big deal out of it. At least she told me in the end. I think we're going to meet up at the park later today, if I can convince Dad to let me. He's always been too overprotective. I love him, but it gets on my nerves sometimes. We really just want to hang out at the park for a few hours. Nothing else. Seriously.

Dad just called. Gotta go.

******4/26**

Dear Journal,

My little brother is such a wuss. He's refusing to go outside right now. I'm sitting at the kitchen table while Dad and him argue at the front door. He won't go outside because it's dark out there. It's not even nighttime yet. It's 5:32 PM (according to my iPod) and the sun is just barely setting. He's never been afraid of the dark before. I'm hoping this phase will go by fast. I bet it's because of those drug-induced dreams he had. Either way, I don't think he's going to let this one go. I should probably get out of here before I have to take the trash out to the curb. It's not my turn. I did it last week.

Now Mom's arguing with Dad. Lucky kid, Mom always picks his side. Yup, he just got out of it and is sprinting for the TV. I'm getting out of here while I have the chance.

Ah, shoot. Busted.

******4/27**

Dear Journal,

School started again today. Joy. I knew this day was going to be bad, right from the get go. Jon made me wait for him to get on the bus before he would let me finish getting ready. So I did, and missed my ride in the process. But luckily Niki had her car and was willing to pick me up. That was really nice of her. We barely made it to school before the bell for first sounded. Then pop quiz. Yay! Just shoot me now.

Tracy was also back with a vengeance. She's doing that superiority act in class, like she's too good for the lesson. I've seen some of the things she's written. She needs to go back to elementary school to learn how to punctuate correctly. I'm pretty sure Jon can write better than she can. (I'm not exaggerating. Much.)

And to top it all off, my camera is being extremely glitchy today. All the pictures I take are really warped and weird. I don't think I dropped it at any point in time, but I don't know if maybe Jon picked it up and forgot to tell me. I'll interrogate him when I get home.

For future reference, I shouldn't take this journal with me when I leave the house. Too many people are trying to read over my shoulder as I write this.

******4/29**

Dear Journal,

Bio is actually being nice to me for once. I just finished up that report I had to do for it, it was relatively simple. Not quite as brain-exploding as I had originally thought it would be. English paper is going nowhere. What am I going to do? I know if I just quit complaining about it and do some stupid Big Foot myth that I could force something out, but it wouldn't be any good. I don't want to submit empty words. Though it looks like that's what I'm going to have to do if I can't find something quick.

Jon's still dreaming. He keeps waking up in the middle of the night screaming. I feel sorry for him. Most of the time I can't even remember my dreams. His subconscious must be a terrifying place. But the thing is, he stopped taking the meds. Shouldn't the effects have worn off by now? Maybe it just takes longer to work through someone's system than I thought it did. Dad doesn't seem too worried, so I guess I shouldn't be, either.

******4/30**

Dear Journal,

I'm not getting enough sleep. Between Jon screaming in the middle of the night and this friggin' paper I can't seem to close my eyes for more than an hour at a time, if at all. As if I didn't have enough things to worry about. This can't be good for my psych. I'm really tired, too. My mind just won't turn off. And I don't know why, but I'm afraid to look out my window into our front yard. Well, not afraid. Fuck, okay, I'm afraid. Even though I know there's nothing out there. I just...don't want to look.

Tonight's going to be a long night.

******4/31**

Jon didn't come home from school today.


	3. May

******5/1**

Dear Journal,

Mom went to the police today. It hasn't quite been a full 24 hours yet, but I'm hoping that they listen to her. It's not like Jon to just disappear. Especially without telling anyone. He's just not that kind of kid. I'm trying not to freak out yet, Mom's doing that well enough for the three of us. Dad's just trying to keep her calm though I know he's not faring much better. I really hope he's not hurt somewhere. I want him back home. He may be annoying, but things just aren't right around here without him. I've called Niki, Crissy and Marissa but none of them have seen him. Crissy said she'd ask Jake for me but I doubt he'd know where Jon is. I'm praying that any moment now he'll just walk through the door, oblivious to all the worry he put us through. He'll come home eventually. I just have to stay positive.

******5/2**

Dear Journal,

I was right. Jake hadn't seen him. The police are starting a search and we put out an alert for him. Mom's not letting me go outside alone anymore, and she watches me through the window of our house every morning while I wait for the bus. Again, I understand why she does it, but it can be creepy sometimes. It's really hard to stay positive when everyone else seems to fear the worst. I don't want to even think about it. It's only been two days. There's no reason for everyone to be so pessimistic.

I still can't look outside my window at night.

******5/3**

Dear Journal,

Mom was crying today. She's trying not to let me see. I want to comfort her. Only, there's nothing I say that doesn't fall flat. Dad's always been so much better at this consoling thing than me. I thank god we have him. He's our anchor. Even though I know he's just as scared as we are he doesn't let it show. I hope someday I'll be as strong as him. Right now, I'm nowhere near that level. I can't even be strong for myself. I'm afraid to look out of my damn window just because of some dream. My eyes hurt really bad. I can't sleep. At some point I'll probably just pass out. Hopefully it won't be while I'm at school. That would just be humiliating.

My teachers have extended all my deadlines. I don't know whether I should be grateful or not.

******5/4**

Dear Journal,

I think I'm starting to hallucinate a little bit. Either that or my mind is having issues keeping up with my eyes. I keep seeing little black shapes out of the corners of my eyes that are never there when I look back. I need to sleep. This isn't healthy. I just want Jon to come back home. Please, come back home. I don't want to stand another night having to listen to Mom crying. I think Dad's just waiting for me to crack. He doesn't say anything, but he keeps giving me weird looks when he thinks I'm not paying attention. It's the same look I keep getting from my friends. I don't like it.

******5/5**

Dear Journal,

I haven't cried yet. I think I'm the only one. It's not that I'm not sad or anything; I'm not so cold. I just feel...numb, I guess is the word for it. I'm starting to black out for short periods of time. It's unnerving. I found a little carving on our mailbox when I went out to check it this morning. A circle with a messy X in the center. The symbol doesn't have any significance to me. I hope someone didn't put it there as some sort of sick joke.

[The handwriting here drastically changes.]

Go to sleep.

Go to sleep.

He's watching watching me

the hands see and

Go to sleep.

[The final sentence is written normally.]

**5/6**

Dear Journal,

I don't remember writing the end of my last entry. I would say that Jon stole it and wrote in it, if it weren't for the obvious, and that I can still make out my own handwriting in it. I don't remember falling asleep, either, and yet I just got out of the bed I don't remember laying down upon. I can hear Dad crying. I wonder why he didn't wake me up. I have school today.

**5/8**

Dear Journal,

Dad doesn't know what the symbol is. He said it's probably just some kid with too much time on his hands. Probably. It's just sort of weird. I saw the same symbol on Niki's driveway this morning. It makes me wonder, but I'm probably just reading too much into things. Though I might ask her about it. Maybe it means something to her? Unlikely but worth a shot. She's been looking a little strained lately. She hasn't said anything to me about it, but that just might be because she doesn't want to upset me with all that's going on. Though I wish she would. Crissy's been ignoring my calls. I need someone to talk to.

**5/9**

Dear Journal,

She didn't see the mark on her driveway. But she said it in this really weird way, more of like denial of the truth. But why would she lie about seeing it? She's starting to worry me. I think she might be sick. Maybe she waited a bit too long on her essay and is now in a mad dash to finish. Wouldn't surprise me. Mine was long since ignored. I'm not even bothering with it anymore. Even with the extension. The stress wasn't worth it. Between the stress of Mom and Dad and people walking on eggshells around me, I've had enough.

******5/10**

Dear Journal,

Niki had an accident today. Nothing too serious, she just nosedived the front of her Jeep into our ditch. I was outside at the time, I went over to see if she was okay but she freaked out on me. She started crying and screaming at me to ___go away_. That hurt. And she just kept screaming until Dad came out and calmed her down. His hot chocolate is the solution to everything, I swear. She kept mumbling to herself under her breath and she wouldn't look up from the table. Repeating: ___Not there. Not there._

What's not there?

It's nighttime now. Jon's in the front yard. But he's kinda fuzzy. Sorta like a picture on the TV screen when there's too much static. He's moving funny. Someone's standing next to him. I can't see their face.

I don't think Jon's coming home anymore.

******5/13**

Dear Journal,

Niki won't talk to me anymore. She won't even stay in the same room if I walk in. She doesn't answer any of my calls. No one will. Mom keeps telling me that it's okay to act sad if I feel it. It's okay to cry. I tell her I already have, even though I haven't. Why haven't I? I just can't. I want to. For some reason it feels that if I do, something will change. I don't know if I want it to.

Gaelen, our mail lady, hasn't stopped by in a few days. I think Dad's going to complain soon. We really don't need another inconvenience right now. I haven't seen the old lady I usually see at the supermarket. She's always been my favorite cashier. I hope she didn't get fired or die on me.

******5/14**

Dear Journal,

I'm watching the News right now with Mom and Dad. More people have gone missing. I'm glad Dad didn't complain about our mail, because she's one of the missing. It's really weird. I always thought this was such a safe and boring place. Nothing ever happened here. I miss it when it used to be like that. Boring is nice. My dreams are really starting to scare me. They keep getting darker. More disturbing. Though I can't seem to remember them. But the feelings they leave me last all day.

******5/16**

Dear Journal,

This is the second night in a row I've woken up screaming. I don't know if it was better when I didn't sleep at all compared to this. It's like I'm being taunted. Restful sleep is right there, so obtainable, then it's snatched away again.

How cruel. The house is silent except the roaring of blood in my ears. My curtains are closed. I don't remember doing that. I wonder if maybe I've woken up before tonight. I don't remember. I don't remember my dreams. I don't remember. I feel sick.

******5/19**

Dear Journal,

I see that guy again. I don't think I'm mistaking him for something else. He just keeps standing there. Why does he not move? There's something coming out of his back. Something black and spindly. Almost like smoke or something. I wish I could see his face, it'd make this all a little less-he's not there anymore. Was he ever? I'm starting to think I just imagined him.

******5/22**

[Tear drops soak the page in areas. The handwriting gets gradually worse as the entry progresses.]

Dear Journal,

I've been stopping by the park more and more lately. It just seems so frozen. Nothing's changed. It looks the same as it did before everything got to messed up. I think that's why I feel so out of place. I don't belong there anymore. But I should, damnit. I haven't changed. It's everyone else that's gotten so weird. I wish Jon was here. Even when things seemed out of whack in my life, he was always the (annoying) constant.

I think I'm crying. And shaking. I can't stop.

******5/24**

Dear Journal,

I told my English teacher I wasn't turning in the paper. He told me that if I didn't I wouldn't pass his class. I told him I didn't care. I don't want to write anything. It's getting difficult. Too draining. Even this.

******5/29**

Dear Journal,

I saw Jon today. He's acting really strange. Normally he's such a chatterbox. Today I couldn't get him to talk at all. Maybe if he'd just spit out that nasty red stuff running out of his mouth and got out of the tree. How'd he get so high up, anyways? He'd always been so clumsy, I don't know how he could have climbed up this. Maybe one of the others showed him. I'd ask, but they seem just as silent as he is. The mail lady is here. There's something wrong with the side of her face, though. It's all squishy and red. They're all covered in it. I don't like the way it looks. Especially on Jon. He never liked red. Green was always his favorite color.

******5/30**

[Writing is incredibly erratic and hard to make out.]

dead they're not dead

blood not don't please

not blood

miss you please don't

I'm scared

watching me

he's watching me

they're dead


	4. June

******6/2**

[Many pages have been skipped over until the entry begins.]

Dear Journal,

I'm starting in the middle of the journal now, because I don't want to accidentally reread any of my old entries. Some of them I don't even remember writing, and the ones I do...I don't sound the same anymore. I don't want the reminder of how much I've changed. And I don't want the reminder of whatever dreams have been haunting me. My mind replays them enough as is. I don't need to read them out.

My parents keep looking for Jon, and I know they won't give up until they find him, but I know as well as they do that it's been a month. He could be anywhere by now.

******6/3**

Dear Journal,

No one will talk to me aside from my parents. My friends have all deserted me, and I have no idea why. I don't know why they chose now to do this. I'm an emotional wreck and I need them. Even my teachers aren't talking to me, though I just think they want to avoid alienating me in front of the class by making me answer questions. Dad said that maybe I should see a counselor. I won't. I don't need another person to think I'm going crazy. I do that well enough on my own, thanks.

******6/5**

Dear Journal,

My English teacher is still trying to get me to do that paper. I should, I know it. But it's so stressful. But in order to not have to take this class again, I need to do it. I guess I don't really have a choice. I'll start tomorrow.

******6/6**

Dear Journal,

I've been thinking, what exactly makes myths so followed? Can a myth even been considered a myth if only one person believes it? And if myths have some sort of truth behind them, what about all those that no one knows? Can a myth still exist without someone there to believe in it? Those little truths must still be out there somewhere, don't they? And perhaps once rediscovered, new myths are formed about them. Maybe that's why a lot of myths overlap each other, have similar ideas. And then there's another side of myths. Maybe they are just completely wild stories that someone made up. But the idea that that someone put inside of another's mind makes it real. Their minds play tricks on them, makes them believe in things that aren't really there.

That must be terrifying, to not be able to trust your own mind.

******6/7**

Dear Journal,

I had a breakdown today. It was so humiliating! I mean, I've been on edge a lot, all strung up, but this is just too much. I was zoning out in class, I didn't mean to, it just happened. I can't even remember what I was thinking about at the time. But my math teacher dropped her yard stick against the white board with a loud smack and it startled me. I just started bawling. It wasn't controllable. I had to run out of the room to get away from all those searing gazes burning into my skull. I left my backpack, though. So I waited until the bell for school to let out and went back in after all the kids had left. My face still hadn't gone back to its normal color, but at least I wasn't crying anymore. My teacher gave me that look, asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I didn't.

I don't.

******6/9**

Dear Journal,

I found myself out there again. I don't know how I got there, or how I got back. But I was there, in the forest with Jon and the others. The branches are the same shade of red as the stuff covering them. It was quiet there. I kept talking to them, tried to get them to talk back with me. They wouldn't. I don't know what I would do if they did. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this. It's nice to see them all again, but they're not the same. Then again, I'm not the same. I think there's more people here than I remember. Next time I'm there, I'll count.

******6/11**

Dear Journal,

My parents are thinking about pulling me out of school for a while. Apparently my math teacher ratted me out about my breakdown in class. There was a whole interrogation about that one. I'm doing better than they think I am. I don't know why we can't just chock that one up to me having a bad day. I don't want to leave school. It's the only place I don't see him. But that doesn't mean he's not there. It's just, I feel that if I'm in a large group of people, I'm protected. I haven't seen him, and neither have they. I'm not alone. It's harder to think that when it's just two other people. Impossible when there's no one.

What happens if they see him, too?

What happens when I do, and they don't?

I'm not crazy.

******6/12**

Dear Journal,

I went to the counselor today. She's really odd. It's like she wants to be nice but doesn't quite know how to do it. Like the new kid who doesn't have any friends and doesn't know the right way of going about making them. She asked me how I was feeling, how school was going, how things at home were going. I just gave her generic answers. I don't want to share my life with her. She has no right knowing. She asked me about Jon, and I didn't know what to say. Just sat there in silence. After about five minutes of that she stopped asking and I left. I don't want to go back there tomorrow.

******6/13**

Dear Journal,

I know my parents will freak out when I get back, but I just needed to go for a walk today. It's raining again. I brought my camera with me. It's been a while since I've used it. And this memory card is almost full. I'll need to get the photos off onto my computer tonight. I've been bringing my journal with me more and more frequently. Is it strange that a book brings me comfort? I'll write more when I get back home.

I met a lady at the park today.

She was really nice. And mellow. I sat next to her for about an hour. She hummed something for most of the time while I just stared forward. I'm glad she didn't seem to mind. I left before she did. I wonder if I'll see her again. I probably should have gotten her name.

******6/16**

Dear Journal,

I am with Jon. Right now. I'm leaning against his tree as I write this, well, not just his tree. It's someone else's too. But I don't know who he is. It's not important. I didn't really think about it until I looked up, but the red stuff on the tree isn't dry. The dry stuff turns a gross brown color. This is bright and warm. And it's all over my sleeve. Great. The mail lady's gone. I wonder where she went without her scarf, though. That's still caught in the tree. There's something else tangled in it, too. I can't make it out. Something red and blobby.

There's eleven people total. I think that's about the same as it was last time. I don't see any new faces.

oh god their faces red and leaking

eyes unmoving not blinking

staring and staring

he's here

******6/17**

Dear Journal,

I've been going through some of my pictures on this memory card. I think I must have grabbed one of Mom's old ones from the desk. There are some pictures all the way from January on here. Not important. I found this picture of Jon at the park with Jeremy, me standing off to the side. Mom took this picture a very long time ago. But it's only just now that I see the figure in the background.

How long has he been following us?

******6/20**

Dear Journal,

I was at the store today with my parents. I saw Niki and her little sister going down the candy isle. They looked happy. I wonder why it made me so angry to see. Am I really so spiteful of their happiness? What a horrible feeling. I wanted to go over there and just do something. I didn't. I followed Dad into the frozen foods isle. At the checkout line, I know she saw me. I tried to smile at her but it probably came out more like a grimace. She might have tried to smile back, but I was already stalking away. I was just so angry. I hate her for leaving me to suffer alone. I hate her for ever being my friend in the first place.

Mom caught up with me at the car. I couldn't stop the tears.

******6/21**

I found the shirt with the blood on the sleeve. It wasn't a dream. It was never a dream. I'm gonna be sick.

******6/22**

[This entry has been inked out.]

******6/24**

Dear Journal,

I burnt the shirt. While my parents were at work I started a fire in our fireplace and burnt it. I don't know if that completely gets rid of it, but I wasn't just going to throw it away. Nor was I going to just hide it. I could smell it. Would burying it have been a better idea? I don't know. I just don't know how I'd explain that. I can't even remember where I was to get it. All I can think about is that I was there. I was right in the center of them all, all those dead people. How could I not have been more aware? How could I not remember how I got there? Every time I close my eyes I see them. And this time I know it's real.

I can't play it off as a fantasy. I know it's true.

I can't escape it any more than him.

******6/26**

Dear Journal,

I like nighttime more than day. In the day, everything is too bright. It's too easy to see. I can't pretend I'm not seeing him. He's too close. In the front yard, head titled up at my window, gangly limbs ramrod straight. Something black snaking up from his back and twining slowly, patient. How can no one else notice him? I'm afraid to ask my parents. They're acting completely normal. Sad, but normal. I can't be the only one who sees him. I can't. He's real.

It's nighttime now. Thank goodness. I'm watching TV with my parents. I don't know if they're actually watching or not. Their eyes just stare forward, unseeing.

eyes unmoving not blinking

******6/28**

Dear Journal,

How did Jon put up with it? I can see why he was so afraid to go outside now. I wonder how long Jon saw him before I did. Maybe it wasn't for very long. I can only hope so. As much as I hate to think it, Jon was lucky he didn't have to go through this. He got off easy.

******6/29**

He's in the house. I don't know why I didn't think he could, but he's there. He's in the house. I'm not safe.

I'm not safe.

******6/31**

Dear Journal,

Niki came by the house today. I wish it was for a social visit. I'd opened the door and she attacked me. I still have a gash on my left arm from where she'd bit me. She was screaming _it's all your fault she's gone she's gone you killed her your fault_. I wish I knew what she was talking about. I didn't kill anyone. But at the time I wasn't exactly thinking rationally. So I fought back. I knocked her out. Dad came home just as she was waking up. I wanted to explain everything to him the second I saw his eyes go wide, but she was already crying. I was pushed aside as he helped her to her feet. She kept apologizing between each sob, but I didn't care. It didn't matter then. I wiped my hand over my bleeding arm and wiped it on his sleeve. Then ran.

I don't know why I did that. It was stupid. I wrapped some gauze around it but it hurts really badly. I'll have to ask him for help soon. Or he'll come up here all his own. I have no way to explain myself. But I don't want to. He should have gone to me first. Not her. He shouldn't have left me alone. But I can't get that look out of my head, the disbelief in his eyes.

I'm not crazy.

I'm not.


	5. July

******7/1**

Dear Journal,

Both of them were waiting for me at the kitchen table this morning when I went down. Niki must have gone home last night while I was still shut up in my room. Dad looked like he hadn't slept again, Mom like she'd been crying. My stomach folded in on itself just knowing that I was the one who did that. I never wanted to make her cry.

They sat me down, told me they understood the strain I was going through with Jon's disappearance, and that they should have paid closer attention to how I was handling it all. I put on a "brave face" for them but I shouldn't have. Now wasn't the time to try and hold back our grief, but to lean on each other for support. Be strong as a family. Too bad we're just a broken one. You can never be as strong in pieces as you were whole.

I know they love me. Or, at least, they love the me I used to be. I feel sorry for them. They've lost more than one child through this.

I asked about Niki. Dad said she'd gone home early, before I woke up. Guess she was too distraught to go home last night. She had good reason, though. Her sister had been taken yesterday. Another goddamn child. I feel sorry for her now. I don't understand how it feels to be so torn apart by a loss like that. I didn't feel anything when it happened to me. Dad told me that I wouldn't be going back to school. Not until I felt better, anyways. Just as well, I never did make any progress on that paper.

But he doesn't understand that going to school is my only reprieve from this place. I didn't want to argue, to agitate him further. He's had enough. So I stayed quiet. I don't want to make things any worse for them.

******7/2**

Dear Journal,

I didn't go back to school today, either. Both Mom and Dad are skipping work to stay home with me. I'm thankful. I don't know what I would do if they left me here alone. I can't stand to be alone. Especially here. Not when I know he can come in. I don't think that should he finally come after me, that being around someone would honestly make a difference, but it's a small comfort nonetheless.

Though honestly I would rather just stay at school.

******7/3**

Dear Journal,

It's so depressing. I see the people on the news, the ones that have gone missing. The amount keeps growing. The police are trying to find a clue, anything. There are no traces, no marks, no hints, no patterns. And no bodies. That has to be the worst part. Not knowing. I thought about going to see how Niki was today, but that probably wouldn't be a good idea. Even though she might have calmed down, I know she must still have some doubts about me. And honestly, one bite through the arm is enough.

Dad's cleaned up my arm pretty good, though. Whatever he put on it makes it so it doesn't hurt as much. Though he's still debating whether we should just go to the doctor to get it looked at. He hasn't decided yet. I don't know why, but him not knowing kinda hurts. I don't know why. Gah, this sounds so stupid. I'm gonna stop writing now.

******7/4**

Dear Journal,

I'm going stir crazy. I have to get out of here. But they're breathing down my neck, just waiting for me to break. Their eyes follow me even when they know I can feel it. Crawling through my skin, searching me. Tracing every hairline fissure in my mind. I'm going to go nuts if I stay here for much longer. If they truly want to help me, what they need to do is just leave me be. Not alone, just be. Maybe they can sense it, the way I've changed. And those looks aren't meant for me but for the stranger wearing my skin. Only, that stranger is me, so what am I supposed to do? I just want to be normal for them again.

******7/6**

Dear Journal,

I wish I was a child again. Back to a time where you believe the things your parents tell you. If your head is covered by the blankets the monsters can't get to you. You'll be safe so long as you stay there. But at night, when I have the layers of blankets suffocating me to the point of asphyxiation, I realize that they're only sheets of cloth. And no matter how I twine myself in them, I can still sense him. Because monsters are real. And no matter what you do, they can get you. There is no protection. There is no hiding.

And no matter how loud you scream, no one can save you.

******7/7**

Dear Journal,

Have you ever-ha, I'm talking to a book like it's an actual person again. Funny. But I seriously doubt I'd be able to actually ask this question to any normal person. Have you ever wondered if maybe the reason a cat watches the mouse isn't because he's waiting to strike, but because he's waiting for the mouse to come to him? The cat's not toying with the mouse, he's just waiting. But maybe he's waiting for an entirely different purpose.

Or he really could just be waiting to eat it. Ew, I can't stand to watch as my cat kills this thing. Pardon me while I go puke.

******7/8**

Dear Journal,

It seems wrong to not know her name as I sit here, watching her from this distance. She's crying. It's that way that only children can cry, shaking with the power of their own overwhelming sobs. Like their entire body is being used to do this single act. You'd have to be completely heartless to not feel something when a child cries like this. I feel bad for not going to her, but I don't dare. Not when I can see him watching, too. She's too close. I'm scared for her. I wish I were braver. Then maybe I could scoop her in my arms, run away. Protect her in the way I couldn't protect Jon.

He's beside her. Too long arms spread to engulf her. Her eyes go wide. She falls silent.

I'm so sorry, Niki.

She's gone.

******7/9**

Dear Journal,

I shouldn't have done that. I just couldn't stand to sit around there for a minute longer. They'll probably come after me soon enough. They'll know I ran here to the park. Or maybe they won't. I don't know if they actually know this is where I've been hanging out, recently. They've been so absorbed in the search and everything that I don't actually know if they've noticed I haven't been coming home when I usually do. No, they had to have noticed, right?

Right.

But now I'm sitting here, alone in the park. And that's really the last thing I want. But I don't want to go back, either. At least I don't see him. And I don't feel him. I can wait here. Until someone comes to get me.

[Tears stain this entry and the handwriting is dark and rough.]

They didn't fucking come. They don't care. I was sitting there in the park for hours, until it got so dark I couldn't see. I didn't even know what time it was until I walked in the front door. Four in the morning. They didn't even bother to wait up for me. They were asleep in bed when I got there. So I grabbed my flashlight and my camera. I'll come back tomorrow. But I'm too fucking angry right now to stay.

******7/10**

Dear Journal,

I went back to the house tonight. They didn't say anything as I walked up to the stairs. My chest feels like it's trying to cave in on itself. It hurts so bad. I don't know whether I should stay here or if I should go. But where would I go if I did leave? I can't. Even if I'm not wanted here, I can't just leave. I'd never make it.

To top it all off, my camera is glitching out on me. Useless piece of crap.

******7/11**

Dear Journal,

They're pretending it never happened. Fine, I can deal with that. It's easier than actually trying to figure out why the hell I do anything, anyways. Moving on.

******7/12**

Dear Journal,

I heard Mom talking on the phone to Grandma. I think they're trying to arrange for me to fly out there. I don't know who they think that'd be better for. Me or them. Dad's just sitting on the couch in silence. It scares me. They're supposed to be strong for me. If they give up, what am I supposed to do? They can't just send me away when things get too tough for them. That's the whole point of being a fucking parent. To be there for your kids.

Even when if we're no longer the same person.

I don't want to leave.

I don't want to be alone.

Someone needs to be there for me.

******7/15**

Dear Journal,

Some of the kids from the news are here. Some of them are crying, some of them are just shaking and being silent. It's so hot out here, the heat is melting off my skin in small drops and making my hand stick to the page. It's really annoying. And it fades out my pen. I seem to be the oldest one here. The children haven't seemed to notice I'm here yet. Too caught up in their own misery, perhaps. Or maybe they just haven't decided to look up. I don't remember climbing this tree, but I'm quite a ways up here. I can see Jon (or what I think used to be Jon) below my feet, and some weird guy a ways to my left. One of the kids found the mail lady's scarf. The blobby mess, now a gross brown, fell out of it and the kid started freaking out. Another is poking at it. He looks confused.

What's wrong, kid? Never seen a human heart before?

******7/17**

Is it so wrong to want someone to be there for me? I just want to have someone to turn to. I want a constant. Anyone.

Please.

******7/19**

[This entry is inked out.]

******7/20**

Dear Journal,

I'm not as afraid as I was before. Even now as I sit here in broad daylight, as lucid as I could ever be, just staring back at him from the swing. His arms spread out loosely at his sides, the smoke writhing behind him. But I'm not paralyzed with fear. I don't feel threatened. I'm still scared, but not in the same way as I was before. In fact, it's sort of comforting. He's not going to leave me alone, is he? I'll never be alone.

I'll never be alone.

don't hurt me

don't hurt me I need someone

anyone

anyone

PLEASE.

******7/21**

Dear Journal,

They've made the arrangements for me to go to Grandma's. They told me it was so I could go somewhere where all this negative crap doesn't hang over me. They make it sound like they're just thinking about me while doing all this.

For some reason I find this incredibly funny. I can't stop laughing.

******7/22**

Dear Journal,

The kids have sort of started to cling to me. They follow after me as I wander around in the woods. I sort of feel like the pied piper from those fairy tales Mom used to tell me when I was little. Most of the kids here seem to be around six to eleven. I know Niki told me the age of her sister once...I think it was eight. So I know one of them, anyhow. I like her. She's really quiet. She doesn't cry or whine like some of the other kids. But she seems to latch onto me the most. I've asked her her name, but she refuses to talk. I wonder if she's always been that way or if this is a new thing.

He's been following along everywhere we go. I wonder if he's the reason I can never get out of here. I keep walking in circles, with the children tripping over my heels every step of the way. I wonder if they think I can save them. I hope not. I could hardly save myself let alone them.

We never get tired of walking around. And we never get hungry. Even when it's long since gone dark and we can no longer see him watching us. I wonder why.

******7/24**

I didn't want to kill him I didn't just couldn't stand his crying anymore.

you can't go home none of them can just had to shut him up before he gets angry with you

I did it for his own good. I saved him. If this is the only mercy I can give, I will save them from him. I don't want them to hurt. I don't want them to suffer. I don't know why he chose us but I wish he'd either let us go or kill us.

Maybe I'll go insane before he ever makes up his mind.

******7/27**

Dear Journal,

I'm supposed to go to Grandma's in a few days. I wonder if I actually can. Even if I get on that plane, will I still end up in the forest the next day? I seem to stay there longer and longer. At some point I think he's just going to keep me there. But it'd make the children happy. I'm the only one that leaves. The rest of them stay there, all day and night, huddled together like little lambs before the slaughter. I'm kind of like their shepherd. What that makes him, I don't know. God, maybe. Always watching, never interceding, staying silent in the shadows.

We're in a sort of balance at the moment. Nothing can disrupt it. I fear what would happen if it were to be.

******7/29**

Dear Journal,

Tonya. That was Niki's sister's name. She came back with me this time. I was so happy she was here. And really surprised. I thought I was the only one who got to escape. But she was here, if only for a short time before he came to take her back. I think it was a mistake. She wasn't supposed to get out. But I took a picture of her right before she had to leave. My camera had only just begun to spaz out on me before he came in. I wish I could have gotten a better picture of her. It'll probably be one of the last ones she'll have. But at least it's something. I'll keep it around in my journal, to keep it safe. I don't want anyone to forget her.

******7/30**

Dear Journal,

Over these past few days, I've come to the conclusion that I can't leave these children alone. I won't. I'm the only thing that keeps these kids from the brink of despair. I won't abandon them the same way I was. I'll be strong. I may be the only one that he doesn't still terrify. If nothing else, I'm going to to make sure they still have one comfort. I'll protect them. Until I no longer can. Until their tiny bodies sit in the trees and the warm blood goes cold and black.

I haven't really thought about what I will do after.


End file.
